Where I Stood
by soulful dreamer
Summary: Being Charmed isn't just something that goes away. Prue Halliwell is alive and well and living in San Francisco with her husband and children. It doesnt take long for her to realize that this beautiful life she knows may not be all that it seems.
1. Chapter One

**A/N:** In 2014, I began this Charmed fanfic based on a dream. I didn't fully develop the story before jumping right in and writing. I had a lot of negative feedback on the last chapter I wrote, and that put me off of the story. But there was validity to the comments. Even I didn't like where the story was going from there. So, I have decided to rewrite. A large portion of the material will remain the same, but I have made changes to the plots that I didn't like to give the story more solid footing. Thank you, to the readers, for sticking with the story and providing brilliant feedback.

* * *

"Mommy!" I blink as my eyes focus on the room around me. A little girl with dark hair runs toward me with tear filled eyes. I feel strange. What was I doing before this? I narrow my eyes at the odd sensation then turn my attention to the girl, seeing her bottom lip tremble.

"Hey sweet girl, what happened?" I question, following her line of sight to the scraped knee.

"He pushed me," she responds, her eyes glancing accusatory toward the door she'd just run through. A boy with dark blond hair stands there, clutching on to the doorframe, a guilty expression on his face. My brow furrows slightly.

"Is that true?"

The boy nods. "But she called me-"

"Parker," I scold. "It doesn't matter what she called you. You don't hurt other people." I frown. "Go to your room. I'll be in in a minute." I turn back to the girl and pick her up, depositing her gently on the countertop. "Let's take a look at this." Rolling up the leg of her shorts, I find that the scrape isn't too bad. It doesn't need anything more than a bandaid. My eyes caught sight of the empty doorway where Parker had been standing. We were going to have to have a long talk about how to treat other people I press a damp rag to the scrape, causing a sharp inhalation from the dark haired girl. Offering a smile, I remark, "Nothing I can't fix up." I pull a tube of a homemade ointment from one of the cabinets.

"What is it, Mommy?"

A smile crosses my face and I lift my eyes to look at hers, mirroring back at me. "It's medicine, Peyton." It's in that moment that I realize just how much she looks like me. She has the same almond olive tones skin, dark hair, same lips. Nearly everything about her is the same as my own. Except for the color of her eyes. They're a bright blue. I recognize the color in them and it takes my breath away. I haven't seen those eyes in what feel like forever.

Something doesn't feel right, but I ignore the feeling, forcing it down to focus on tending to my daughter's leg. My daughter. That beautiful little girl who is all mine. After a bandaid is in place, I set her down and she runs off toward the hallway that leads to her bedroom. I let out a long breath and glance around the main area of the house. I know this is my home, but it feels...off somehow. I straighten up in the living room and move to the kitchen, cleaning up the day's mess. Maybe that's all it is. My need to pick up after my family.

Once the rest of the house is settled and I make sure Peyton's done her homework, I turn my attention to Parker's closed bedroom door. It's never fun when I have to scold my children, but as their mother, it's my job. I push it open, finding him sitting on his bed with a book in his hands. If he wasn't in trouble, I would have smiled. He liked reading. I knew at least that much about my son. "Hi." I close the door behind me and cross to his bed. He closes the book and sits up, offering the spot next to him on the bed. "Why'd you push your sister?" The two of them are close in age. I'd hoped maybe that would make them get along better. Apparently it didn't matter. But what would I know about that? I was an only child.

"She called me a nerd," Parker said, looking up at me with worry in his eyes. "She said all I do is sit and read and never play with her." I listen, not offering any hint at what I'm feeling. "She just kept saying it in that sing-song voice and it annoyed me, so I pushed her." A frown forms on my face.

"Well, that wasn't very nice of her," I remark, choosing my words carefully. "But you know better." I level him with my gaze and he nods. "You have to remember that she's younger, she has different interests. It's not right for her to call you names, but she just wants to be included in things with you." I finally offer a smile. "She wants to be close with her big brother. That's not too much to ask, is it?" His worried brow relaxes and the edges of his mouth turn upward.

Whereas with Peyton, I see every similarity possible, I can find none in the boy before me. The thought shocks me to awareness.

"I'll tell her I'm sorry," Parker relents.

"In the morning," I remark. "I'd like for you to take a bath and get to bed. School tomorrow." For a moment, I expect a grumble to come from him, but I receive none. I wrap an arm around him and pull him to my side, pressing my lips into his hair. "You gotta watch that temper. People are going to say bad things about you your entire life. If you show them it doesn't bother you, then you don't give them power over you. Remember that." He nods against me. I kiss the top of his head once more and then push him toward getting ready for bed.

–

Both of the kids are tucked into bed as I pushed open the back door of the house and step out into the warm evening. I don't know how I got so lucky. I have two great kids, a wonderful husband, and a house overlooking the San Francisco bay. I lean forward, resting my elbows against the railing as lights across the bay glitter across the water. I take a deep breath. It feels like it's the first breath I've truly been able to take all day. The scent of pine and salt are heavy on the air. Home. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. This city has the best of both worlds. If you want busy, city life, you can go into town and fade into anonymity in the crowds. If you want quiet, it's a short trek to the woods, to the bay, to any number of natural landmarks that would make you question your own existence in comparison to it.

The sliding glass door behind me opens and I turn my head, expecting to see one of the kids out of bed. Instead, a smile crosses my face as I see him. My heart skips a beat. Who knew it was possible after over ten years of marriage and two kids to feel like a teenager in love? He's standing tall, in his San Francisco Police Department uniform, exhaustion evident by the deep creases in his face, but happiness in his eyes. My husband. I'm overwhelmed by the amount of love I feel welling up in my chest. How long has it been since I've seen him? Wasn't it just this morning when he left for work? If that's true, then why does it feel like it's been a decade?

The light catches the blue of his eyes, eyes that he passed on to our daughter. Eyes that are shining at me as I cross to him. It feels like forever by the time I wrap my arms around his neck and his are around me, crushing me to his chest. I bury my face in his neck, my heart threatening to beat right out of my chest. I know that he risks his life every day as a police officer, so I worry. But the fact that I feel so desperate to be close to him right now is the only thing I can think about. "Hey," he whispers as he buries his nose into my hair. "Are you okay?" I nod against him, my arms wrapped tightly around him, not wanting to let him go. Never wanting to let him go. "Hey," he says again. One of his hands tightens in my hair as he pulls me to look at him. There are tears in my eyes. I have no idea why. "What's going on?"

His voice is gentle. The exhaustion I saw on his face has been replaced with concern. "It's been a...weird day," I whisper as I look at him, committing his features to memory as though when I blink he'll be gone. "I just... well, I _missed_ you," I exhale, silent tears sliding down my cheeks. "I don't know why, but I just feel like I haven't seen you in forever." He smiles, his eyes glittering like they do when he's incandescently happy.

"It's been twelve hours," he pokes fun. He likes to do that.

I playfully shove his shoulder, but don't let him out of my arms. "It just feels longer than that. Like it's been years." I tip my chin toward him. "I love you, Andy." My words are barely more than a whisper as I press my lips against his. At first, it feels sloppy, like I haven't done it in a while, but soon, our bodies mesh together in perfect harmony.

–

Later, when the night has quieted the house around us, I rest my head on Andy's chest. His hand draws circles absentmindedly on my back. I feel completely exhausted but so fulfilled. We lay that way for a while, silently enjoying one another's company. I feel his lips press against the top of my head and I turn to look up at him from my spot against him. I smile. "What's come over you?" he asks, taking my hand into his and then kissing my palm. "Not that I'm complaining, but this morning, you weren't exactly pleased with me." I furrow my eyebrows. What's he talking about? He can see the confusion on my face. "Oh, come on, Prue, don't act like you weren't completely pissed when I left."

I lower my gaze, trying to remember this morning. I draw a blank. The first thing I remember that day is when Peyton came running in. I blink several times. "I...I don't remember," I say sheepishly, averting my eyes from his. I really don't remember.

He tips my head to look back up at him. He studies my eyes for a long moment. "You really don't remember?" I shake my head slowly.

"It was a weird day. I mean, the first thing I remember was Peyton coming in after Parker pushed her. She scraped her knee. Before that...it's sort of a blur," I say gently. "What was I angry about?"

Andy frowns. I can tell that he doesn't want to tell me. He opens his mouth and hesitates. Apparently it was something bad. I sit up, tugging the sheet around me as the chill of the room causes goosebumps to creep up on my skin. "You wanted to go back to working an office job, give up on your photography." I blink several times, trying to remember the conversation.

"But you can't be the only one supporting this family," I whisper.

"That's what you said this morning," he said. I can see the hesitation in his eyes. He doesn't want to fight. I just can't find the words to express in that moment that fighting is the last thing I want to do with him. "We aren't struggling for money," he says gently. "I'd hate for you to give up your dream."

"I just want to feel useful. Is that too much to ask?" I question, quietly.

"Babe, you are. You take care of the house, the kids," he said, his hand trailing up and down my back. "Me." I pick up my head to look up at him, a smile forming unwillingly across my lips. "If you're working an office job, who's gonna make sure I have my tie on right in the mornings?"

"You're right," I smile at him. Obviously the conversation I don't remember from this morning was bad. "And you have no idea how to make lunches for the kids." I knew there was one time I'd asked him and he'd fixed it all wrong. Peyton didn't eat lunch that day because he didn't cut her sandwich correctly. Picky eater, that one.

"So, it's settled? You'll keep working on your photography, and I'll keep doing what I'm doing?" He asks. As I look at him, I remember something. An image. A flash. Andy being cast backward into a grandfather clock. I feel my heart beating faster, my breath coming in shorter gasps. I can hear him as he sits up and takes my head in his hands. I can feel him right there next to me, but that image of him being thrown backward. It's tied to something in my brain that evokes a response of panic. I feel bile in my throat. I see him in front of me in the bed, but I can't respond to him.

Instead, I push myself naked from the bed and to our bathroom. I _know_ these things. But none of it feels familiar. Once the contents of my stomach are empty, I take a cold shower. Andy checks on me, and I tell him that I'm fine. But deep down, I know something is off. Something isn't right.

–

After brushing my teeth and a quick shower, I tuck myself into bed next to Andy that night, not acknowledging my quick escape to the bathroom. He doesn't ask, and I don't offer. Something just felt off. Maybe it was just my imagination, which has a tendency to run wild, I think. When I finally fall asleep, it's late, and Andy's already snoring beside me. The next day starts like any other. Coffee, breakfast, seeing kids off to the school bus, Andy off to work, and I settle in with my laptop to figure out my next adventure.

I'm not sure why there was an argument between us about me going back to work. I don't feel like I _need_ to do that. I enjoy my photography. Andy is right; we're not having money problems. I think what bothers me more than anything is that I don't remember this conversation. When I glance up at the clock, it's half past nine. Rather than stay in the house all day, I grab my camera bag and get out. I can't remember the last time I've spent a day in the city. I park downtown and find myself getting lost in the buildings, the piers, all of it. Depending on the day, my style of photography varies. Most of the time, it's scenic pieces, but there are other times when I photograph people. I smile, thinking of the photos of my children around the house. I've taken all of them. At least, I think I have.

I'm in the middle of photographing a wharf when my stomach grumbles. I haven't had anything to eat that morning, aside from my coffee. I pause for a moment, memorizing everything about this place. From the boats, to the empty docks, to the mountains in the distance. This is what feels like home, what feels right. How long have I been feeling so disconnected from my life? I would need to talk to Andy about it. I don't like feeling off. Finally, I remind myself that I need to eat and push inside of a restaurant not far from the docks.

The sign outside is a cute play on the fact that California has a lot of earthquakes. Subtly named Quake, I notice with a smile. Not that there's anything funny about earthquakes. I remember one time...Well, actually I don't. I shake the thought away as I take my seat at the bar and am greeted by the server. I place my order and click through the photos taken. I work freelance for a couple of magazines in the city, but neither of those require an office and a desk that I'm attached to for any amount of time. It's a freedom I've enjoyed since our children were school age. Before we had kids, I worked in a boring office. I became a stay at home mom with Parker, and then Peyton. The last three years I've been doing this. I love it.

By the time my food arrives, I've already picked out a photo I'm going to submit for an article on fishing in San Francisco. The one with the mountains in the background is absolutely breathtaking. My mind turns to the restaurant around me. I've never been here before. It must be new. I stop the waiter before he can wander off after delivering my food.

"How long has this restaurant been here?"

He shrugs. "Probably twenty years. Why do you ask?" I shake my head.

"No reason." I turn back to my plate and pick at the food there. Twenty years is a long time for a restaurant to be in the same city as I am and for me to have never heard of it. I blink as I push the food around on my plate. Then an image pops into my head. A diamond shaped neon sign. P3. I blink once more and the image is gone. It takes me a moment to gather my wits. Obviously my brain is playing tricks on me. "Excuse me." The server walks back over, looking at me expectantly. "I'm looking into local dives around the city. There wouldn't happen to be a place called P3?"

The bartender pokes out his bottom lip slightly and shakes his head. "No." I nod, then turn my attention back to my food. "But-" I look up at him, feeling hopeful. "There used to be. It's just north of here. It was run by the Halliwells. One of them worked here before that. It was bought by someone else. It's called- Hang on." He reaches for a phone book—who still owns one of those in the day and age of cell phones? "Ah, Knockout. Do you want the address?"

I hesitate. The random image in my mind must have just been that—random. "No, thank you, though," I take a few bills from my wallet and place them on the counter. I get home a full ten minutes before the bus arrives with the kids. The door slams open and in they walk. "Hi, how was your day?" I ask Peyton. Parker heads straight for the kitchen. Boys and their appetites, I suppose.

"There was a mean kid on the school bus," she said. "He pulled my hair." I frown. Peyton is small for her age, true. But that doesn't give anyone the right to pick on her.

"Did you tell the bus driver?" My daughter frowns and shakes her head. "Well, just ignore them. If it happens again, tell the driver. And if they don't do anything about it, then I will." And I mean it. My daughter won't be bullied. Short of calling another parent, I'm not sure what else I can do. I spend the next fifteen minutes getting them snacks and set up to do their homework. It's just a normal day in the life of Prue Trudeau.

I brush the hair from my eyes as I step out on the back porch overlooking the bay. How Andy and I managed to get this place is beyond me. I wrap my sweater around my shoulders a little more tightly as the breeze brushes against my face. It's a tell tale sign that cooler weather is coming. My hands rest on the railing of the porch. I love my life. I _know_ that I love being a wife and mother. I _know_ that my family is important to me. But something's completely not right.

I'm missing something. Or someone.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N:** I am in the process of a rewrite of this fanfic. If you haven't already, please start at chapter one. There are some slight changes. Thank you to the readers, as always!

* * *

I still get the feeling that something isn't right at times. That I'm supposed to be somewhere else. But when I look at Andy as he reads a book to Peyton at night, I _know_ that this is where I'm supposed to be. I watch silently one night from the doorway as the words from the pages come to life with his voice. I see the droop in her eyes as she begins to fade away into unconsciousness. He sees me as he stands from the chair next to her bed and puts the book away. We share a smile as her bedroom door is closed. "Hi," I whisper to him. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me close. We share a gentle kiss.

"I missed you today," he says in an equal whisper.

A smile plasters itself across my face. "I missed you, too. I'm glad you made it home before she went to sleep." I nod my head toward our daughter's door. We head downstairs to the kitchen, where Andy eats his dinner and we talk about his day.

"It was just a normal day," he said, turning his attention at once to me. "How about you?"

"Well, I sold a couple more photos. They have a piece coming up with a Middle Eastern billionaire that's moving his business here. They'd like for me to spend a day photographing him. Sort of a day in the life piece," I say with a smile. I sip my wine and prop my head up on my hand as we fall into silence. "You're happy, right?" I question, picking my head up to look at him. Andy gives me a quizzical glance.

"Of course. Aren't you?" he asks, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

I turn my eyes down to my wine glass, my finger absentmindedly tracing the rim of it. "Yeah," I say as I bring my eyes back to look at him.

"You don't sound so convincing." He takes my hand into his own and gives a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me." I cock my head to the side. He gives an uneasy laugh as I narrow my eyes.

I shake my head. "Nothing." My eyes glance down at the wine and back at him. "Just feeling odd. Must be the wine."

"Must be." He stands and crosses to the sink to put his dishes down. I'm right behind him, as I always am, to get those washed so I don't have to worry about them later. As I reach for the faucet, he grabs my wrist. "It can wait," he says. I shake my head. He knows my habits. I like to make sure the house is clean, especially before bed. But this time, he won't concede. His arms wrap around me, pulling my small frame into his strong arms. I inhale his scent deeply, sandalwood. It reminds me of when we were younger. We just so happened to be the lucky ones. High school sweethearts turned successful married couple.

Only... That doesn't seem right.

"Andy," I say as I try to keep my head in the right place. It's always easy to fall into his arms and forget the rest of my troubles, especially at the end of a long day. Right now, I need to talk to him. "Does this feel right to you?"

By the expression on his face, I can tell he's confused. "Of course, it does." He brushes the loose strand of hair out of my face. "Why? It doesn't to you?" I can't tell if he gets what I'm asking. "We've been married for almost ten years." He thinks I'm talking about us. Our marriage. That's not it at all.

"Not _us_," I say as I pull out of his arms and turn my back to him. I can't think quite right when we're wrapped up together. "I mean, does this, our life, your work, all of it, feel right to you?"

"What are you getting at, Prue?" Andy questions. I sigh, trying to rid myself of the frustration.

"Sometimes, I just have this feeling about things. That something isn't right. Like I _know_ certain things. But I question if they're real." I study his face, trying to see if he's felt that way. "Like this house. I don't remember when we bought it."

"Right before Peyton was born-"

"I _know_ that-" I stop, throwing my hands up because I'm not sure that I could express what I'm trying to say. He's not getting it. Maybe this is completely real for him and he's never once questioned it. "I wish I could explain it." I see the compassion on his face. Usually, there's no problem when it comes to my husband understanding me. Sometimes we are so close that our friends think that we were the same person. But right now, Andy feels like the farthest person away from me.

"I think maybe we need some time for us." His words snap me from my thoughts. "You've been doing so much around here, with the kids and the house. I've been so busy with work. We should have a night out. Grab some dinner. Be a couple instead of parents for a night." I feel his arms as they wrap around me.

His presence comforts me. He's my anchor. He always has been. I put my arms around his neck and look up at him. "Okay," I say gently. "I'll get a sitter." We share a smile and then kiss. I'm so lost to Andy Trudeau. Maybe it is all in my head. Maybe the things that I know are real. I just can't let my husband think that I'm crazy. Because I'm not. Maybe he's right. I'm just feeling off because of stress. He's my voice of reason.

–

I arrange with our nearest neighbor for a sitter. Her oldest daughter is seventeen and could use the extra cash. Andy gets home from work just as I'm finishing up. I wear his favorite red dress. Having children never really affected my figure. I still have the same body I did in school. I'm one of the lucky ones, for sure. His eyes roam over me, a grin spreads across his face as I come into view. "Parker, Peyton!" I call up the stairs. Peyton comes bounding down and Andy hauls her up into his arms, to which she squeals with delight. Parker comes down with less enthusiasm. "I want you both on your best behavior, do you hear me?"

Parker nods, and Peyton squeals once more as Andy tickles her belly. "Stephanie knows what time you're supposed to be in bed. So no tricks." I narrow my eyes playfully at Parker. I take his chin into my hand and kiss him on the forehead. His sullen expression softens and he smiles at me. I give him a wink. With a final kiss to my daughter, we leave the house. It feels weird, honestly, to be going out with my husband. We haven't had a date night in so long. Both Andy and I had no other family. As only children, when our parents passed, we were all the other had.

We head to dinner. Conversation is routine: extracurricular activities, work, kids. "Look at us," I say, shaking my head and giving a smile. "We're trying to be a couple and yet all we talk about is the kids." My eyes glimmer at him.

"We're hopeless," Andy says. "Guess we can't just be a couple." I lean over and wipe sauce from the corner of his mouth. He captures my hand and plants a kiss on my palm, a simple act that has always made my heart skip a beat. He gives my hand a squeeze, but doesn't let it go. When the waiter offers dessert, I shake my head.

"I couldn't eat another thing if I wanted to," I admit. The waiter leaves to get the check and I turn to Andy. "So, husband, what's next?"

He turns to me, a playful smile on his lips. "Dancing," he says matter-of-factly. I quirk my eyebrows at him.

"Oh, really?" I question with a grin on my face, knowing that I should make a comment about how we haven't danced together since our wedding. But I stop. Our wedding. I blink a few times, searching my head for the memory. The images don't come. Andy's speaking, but his words aren't registering. We got married. I know this. But I can't remember it.

"Prue?" he questions, his happy expression from a moment ago gone. I shake my head and give him a smile. "Are you ready?" I nod and as soon as his back is turned, my smile drops. How do I not remember our wedding? That's one thing every girl should remember the details. What song they danced to, what kind of cake they had. If there were any embarrassing stories about slutty wedding sex. All that remains is a big blank.

As we climb into the car, I ask Andy, "Where are we going anyway?"

Absentmindedly, he replies, "Knockout."

–

I'm on edge as Andy parks the car. He senses that as he takes my hand into his own. It comforts me as we walk toward the line of people waiting at the door. I glance around, looking for the sign I saw in my head. The bouncer looks up and makes eye contact with me. He waves a hand forward. I glance over my shoulder to see if he's motioning to someone else. When I turn back, he motions again. I look at Andy and shrug my shoulders, then we walk forward. The man smiles at me and nods us in.

"What was that?" Andy asks over the loud music as we walk down the stairs that lead into the club. My hand rests gently on the railing as my eyes take in the place. It's dark, but I can make out the bar in the center of the room, a small stage off to the right, and a lot of tables and sitting areas around the place. The music is loud and the place is full of people.

"I don't know," I say in his ear as we reach the main floor. He guides me to the bar and orders our drinks. We find a table and my eyes look about the room, taking it all in. Part of me is searching though. For what? I don't know. I feel Andy's hand grab mine and his breath on my neck as he leans in. The edges of my mouth quirk upward and I turn to look at him.

"What's on your mind, Mrs. Trudeau?" He asks. I just give him a coy smile. I take a deep sip of my drink, almost enjoying the way the liquor slides down my throat. I haven't felt like this in a long time. For the last decade, I've been a wife and mother. I haven't really had much time to be a fun loving free spirit like I was when I was younger. Not that I did anything unreasonable, but I did enjoy going out and getting a little tipsy, ending up in some guy's bed at the end of the night. I blush as I look at Andy. It was his bed I ended up in on those nights.

"Just remembering when we used to go out before we got married," I say, my hand resting on his thigh and giving it a quick squeeze. His eyebrows quirk upward.

Andy smirks and tips his head up, his eyes narrowing playfully. "And what are you remembering about it?"

"How I used to end up in your bed at the end of the night. My mother wanted to kill me for not getting home until the sun came up." My gaze is steady on him, but the words feel empty. I shrug the feeling away and tip my head up at him, leaning in to kiss him but stopping short. "Oh, wait, or was that Chris Tegalar's bed?" I smirk and pull my head back from his. His expression drops, but he catches on to the fact that I'm toying with him. I squeeze his leg again.

My husband leans in, planting a kiss on the soft spot beneath my ear. "Be careful, Mrs. Trudeau, or I might have to take you to one of the back rooms," he says in a low, promising voice. I grin at him, and I am about to take him up on his offer when something captures my attention. It's a fleeting moment. On a couch across the room, I see myself sitting next to a blond man with broad shoulders and a goofy smile. I blink and the image disappears. Instead, there are a couple of girls sitting there chatting animatedly. "You okay?"

My expression drops, but I fix it, turning to look at Andy. "Let's dance." I finish my drink and try to shake the image from my head. I grab his hand and we make our way onto the dance floor. I just want to forget those feelings, those images. I want to lose myself in my husband tonight in a way that I haven't lost myself in him for a long time. We dance. Slow dances, fast dances. It doesn't even matter that we're off beat, it's just the two of us in this crowded room. Just like it's been the two of us our entire lives. The place is emptying out as I realize just how late it is. I sit at the bar, drinking water to sober up before we head home.

"Ready to go?" Andy asks me as he comes back from the bathroom. I take his hand and smile, then follow him out. It's really late, much later than we've been out in a long time.

"Oh, the kids are going to be up early," I grumbled playfully as I stumble in my heels. I had too much to drink, but at least my hazy vision has blocked out any chance of hallucinating anything else. The car is about twenty feet ahead of us.

"At least you know Peyton will. She'll probably come climb in the bed once we get home," Andy says affectionately.

"So it's true." A voice says from behind us. I turn sharply, my brow furrowing as I don't recognize the woman in a red chiffon dress. She bares her teeth at me. I had to be imagining things. Because I thought I saw fangs. "The eldest Charmed One has returned." Confusion had to be evident on my face. "Prue, isn't it?" I feel the sudden urge to run. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible. Andy has his gun in hand.

"Who are you?" He asks.

The woman laughs. "The Elders can't resurrect a Charmed One and not expect the rest of the world to notice," she says flippantly to him. "But if she doesn't know who she is-" She turns her gaze to me. "-it's my duty to get rid of her." She advances on us—well, me. Andy's gun goes off. The woman disappears into what sounds like a flutter of wings.

Andy turns toward me, "Are you okay?" I try to focus on the moment. No matter how much alcohol I may have had in my system from earlier, I am stone cold sober now. I shake my head.

"What the hell was she talking about?"

"I don't know," my husband remarks.

That's the first time he's ever lied to me.

The drive home is silent. I keep my hands in my lap gripped together. _The eldest charmed one has returned._ What does that mean? What's a charmed one? Once we get home, we thank the sitter and lock up the house. After the way that women looked at me, I'm not taking any chances at her finding us. Andy hasn't said much. He looked at me several times in the car like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. After I've showered and laid down in the bed, he joins me. We turn out the lights and I try to settle into sleep.

After a half hour of trying, I can sense Andy is still awake. "That woman recognized me. She knew my name," I whisper into the night.

"I think she was on drugs," he remarks quietly.

"Really? _That's_ what you think?" I frown and run a hand through my still wet hair. I feel the weight of exhaustion on my shoulders.

"What else could it be? She was spouting some random stuff. For all we know she could be someone we went to school with." I can't take the relaxed tone of his voice, as though it's not a big deal. It is a big deal.

"I've never seen that woman before in my life," I say. "I would have recognized her. And she didn't look like she was on drugs. She seemed very certain that she knew me. And what are the elders, or a charmed one?"

"I don't know."

His words elicit anger inside of me. Andy doesn't lie to me. We're usually open with one another on everything. I shake my head as I look at him, trying to conceal the hurt in my eyes. It's late. I'm exhausted. I've just been recognized by a creepy woman. I throw the blankets from my legs and plant my feet on the floor. "I don't know what the hell is going on." I shake my head and stand up. "And right now, I can't take you lying to me."

"Prue," he calls out from behind me. "Come back to bed."

Shaking my head, I say, "The kids are going to be up in a couple of hours and I just—I can't." I soften my own expression. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." I grab my robe then exit the room. My mind was already whirling with a thousand questions, and for Andy to lie to me... He's never lied to me before. At least not that I remember. I clean up the kitchen from the night before and then sit down on the sofa in the living room. I flip through the early morning channels on the television, infomercials. I hate infomercials.

But even if there was something good on TV, I'm not sure that I could focus on it anyway. The look in they eyes of that woman. She seemed confident, but there was a fear there. Like she had a reason to be afraid of me. I shake my head as I think about it. I search the terms charmed one and elders on my phone, but can't find anything that would relate to me.

I've had feelings of things that I know, but _don't_ know. I've had random images pop into my mind. I've seen things... All of those were in my head. Tonight, something actually happened. Something that wasn't in my head. Then I remember that moment from the bar earlier at dinner, when I couldn't remember our wedding. I stand up and cross to the mantle where our family photos are. I haven't looked at them in a while. There are photos of us now, the family, our children. But no one else. Not my immediate family nor Andy's. I dig through the cabinets in search of photo albums. All of the photos there are recent.

When Andy comes down from our bedroom, there's a mess of things in the living room. "What are you doing?" he asks. I stop, my chest heaving in and out as I look at him.

"We have no wedding photos," I say as I stand up. He furrows his eyebrows at me and crosses over.

"What? Of course we do." Andy surveys the mess on the floor and then turns towards the photos on the mantle and walls, avoiding my gaze.

"No, Andy, we don't. And we don't have any baby photos of the kids. And nothing of my parents or yours. Nothing. It's like our lives didn't exist before-" I pause, trying to think back. "Before the day we argued about me going back to work."


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N:** I am in the process of a rewrite of this fanfic. If you haven't already, please start at chapter one. There are some slight changes. Thank you to the readers, as always!

* * *

"What?" Andy asks incredulously. "Of course, we existed before—?" I'm overwhelmed. My mind is working a hundred miles a minute. I look at him, trying to read what is going on in his head. I think back to that day. How I couldn't remember what I was doing in just the seconds before. How even though I recognized Peyton as my daughter, it just felt off. I remember Andy coming home that night and being so desperate to be close to him, as though I hadn't been close to him in years. I remember everything _since_ that day.

"The night you came home. When we talked about me going back to work." I run my hands through my hair, gripping onto it a little harder than I needed to, trying to remind myself that this is my reality. That what I see before me is real. It's not a dream. I feel Andy's eyes on me as I go through a photo album. "See? There's pictures of the kids, playing in the yard, and from the things we've done in the last few weeks, but nothing from-" I can feel a panic attack rising. I don't usually get them. At least I don't think I do. My hands grip at the robe around my chest. I stand up and look wildly about the room. I need something, anything to make me feel like what I've discovered isn't true.

Instead, I feel Andy's hands grab my shoulders to steady me. I look up into his light eyes. He's concerned. He doesn't speak for a long moment. But staring into those eyes, I feel my breathing even out. My heart begins to slow. My husband. My anchor. My soulmate. I feel the tears come quickly. I press my palms against my eyes, not wanting to let them overflow. His hands rub my shoulders gently as I lean forward, burying my face in his chest. He rests his chin on the top of my head. "Maybe they're in one of the boxes in the attic?"

I know this is the logical explanation. I don't remember packing them, though. Why would I put our wedding photos away? I focus on my breathing, on the sound of his heart thumping beneath his rib cage. He presses his lips to the top of my head and folds me in his arms. Out of everything that I've felt since that day, the one thing that I know to be true and real is my love for my husband. The moments may be unclear, but I know that Andy Trudeau is the man I've always loved and always will love. Even if what happened last night is still weighing heavily on my mind.

"Mom?" I hear Parker's voice from the stairway. I pick my head up and turn away from him so he won't see the tears on my cheeks.

"Good morning honey," I say carefully, leaning down so I can pick up the mess I made.

"What happened?" my son questions.

Thank God for Andy Trudeau. "Mom and I were going through some stuff. Trying to clean out. Why don't you go brush your teeth? I'll cook breakfast." Parker nods and heads back up the stairs. Andy puts a hand on my back and takes the albums from my hands. He presses his lips to my temple. "I'll pick all of this up. Go get some sleep. You had a long night." His tone is gentle, but there's a finality to it. He won't take my argument. I don't even protest. I feel exhaustion take over me as I head up the stairs to our bedroom.

I don't even remember fading into sleep.

–

When I wake up, I feel a small, warm body cuddled up next to me. I pick up my head, seeing only a mess of dark hair peeking out from the edge of the blankets. A smile crosses my face as I reach a hand out to her. I rub her back through the blankets and feel her stir beside me. "Morning," I say sleepily as her head pokes out from beneath the covers. She blinks a few times and stares at me.

"Daddy said you weren't feeling good," Peyton states.

"Oh? He did, did he?" I brush my hair back and roll onto my side to look at her.

She nods. "Mhmm. Are you feeling better?" I smile and nod, cupping her cheek with my hand. "Good. You missed breakfast. Daddy said not to wake you up, but I didn't think you would want to miss lunch, too." A grumble comes from deep in my stomach.

"No, I suppose not," I say quietly as I move the blankets out of my way and then climb out of the bed. "C'mon." I offer my hand to Peyton, but she bounds from the bed and out of the room before I can even think of catching her. Her squeals can be heard through the house. She's always been the easy child. Parker wasn't bad, necessarily, but he was moodier. And he isn't even a teenager yet. I smile at the thought and walk slowly down the stairs. I can hear my daughter giggling in the kitchen.

As I walk in, Andy is making a grilled cheese, but he has his right arm extended with a cup of coffee being offered. "You're a god," I mutter as I take the cup. I lean toward him, pressing my lips against his chastely.

"I know," Andy replies, giving me a quick smile before flipping the grilled cheese in the pan. He glances up at me briefly. "You feeling better?"

I shrug. Am I feeling better? I really can't say. I don't feel as shaken as I did last night about the woman in the alleyway. But do I feel better about not being able to find wedding photos or pictures of the kids as babies? No. Absolutely not. I don't want to tell him that, though. "Thank you for covering in front of Parker," I say in a low voice as I lean against the counter near the stove.

Andy doesn't look at me. "We're a team." I smile briefly, but I can tell that he's on edge. He finishes fixing lunch and serves it to the kids. I finish my cup of coffee and pour another, effectively draining the pot. Andy busies himself with the dishes. I place a hand on his forearm.

"Hey, I'll get it," I say carefully. He shakes his head, focusing his eyes on the task at hand. "Parker, Peyton-" I call, looking over at them at the table. "Why don't you take your lunch into the living room. You can eat in front of the TV. Just this _once_." I smile at them. They both bound out of the kitchen. I turn back to Andy, seeing the tension in his muscles. "Can we talk?" I ask. He drops the sponge from his hands and turns off the water, turning to look at me.

"Let's talk," he says a little more harshly than I expected.

"You said last night that you didn't know anything about that woman," I say as I set down my coffee on the counter. "Were you telling the truth?" He doesn't speak. I don't like it when he doesn't speak. My gaze falters. "Please answer me."

Andy's mouth hangs open for a long moment, "Yes." He says the word with such sincerity that I can't argue with him. "I don't know what she was saying any more than you do."

"Something's off," I remark quietly. "I couldn't find those pictures...and I have moments where I'm missing things." I look up at him. "Do you ever have that?" Andy shakes his head in response.

While I know that Andy and I have been through everything together... On this, I know I'm alone.

–

Monday comes. Everyone goes about their own way. I search the attic. I still can't find pictures that should exist. I find myself moping around the house as the week presses on. So, instead of sitting around on Wednesday afternoon, I get dressed and grab my camera.

It's the middle of the day, so I don't expect many people to be around a night club. I park in the same spot we did just a few nights ago. It's daylight, so I don't feel as uneasy as I otherwise might. Even so, I glance around cautiously as I step out of the car, camera in hand. I walk slowly toward the side of the building, where the woman disappeared. While this is the last place I know I should be, I can't erase that night from my mind. Seeing that curious look in her eye. She was obviously dangerous, but there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. She recognized me. Called me a charmed one. Whatever that is.

I lift my camera to take a photo of the spot, in case I need to look at it later. Something through the lens catches my eye. It's tucked in a crevice between the brick wall and concrete ground. I grab a tissue from my pocket and wedge it out. The sunlight causes it to shimmer in my hand. It's a tear drop shaped ruby on a rather exquisite gold chain. It would definitely match that getup the woman was wearing that night. I wrap the necklace in the tissue and tuck it into my jeans' pocket to examine further later.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I'm not alone. I don't know how I know that. I can sense someone behind me. I catch a figure out of my peripheral vision. "I didn't want to believe it was true." The man's voice is almost playful. I recognize that voice. I furrow my eyebrows as I turn to look at the man. He's as tall as Andy, with dark hair, narrow shoulders, and a curious expression on his face. "Never thought I'd see you again." He's wearing a dark suit and has a crossbow resting on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I question, stowing my camera in my bag quickly.

His features soften. "The vampire told me that you didn't recognize her. So it's true, then?"

"You still haven't explained yourself," I say, feeling my frustration bubble. Vampires? That's just science fiction, right?

"Oh, I don't intend to," he said, an amused expression on his face. "You look good, Prue. I dare say you haven't aged a day in over ten years." I turn to face him, afraid of what will happen if I let him get behind me. I can feel my expression hardening. "I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I not voluntarily gone back to prison. If I could have saved you."

I shake my head. "What?"

He avoids my question. "If you're here, then that means the vampire was right about your husband. Bastard, if you ask me, since he has you." Andy? What does he have to do with any of this? He puts a hand on my shoulder. I immediately shove his hand away. Him being so close does pull forward something in my mind. The man before me, sitting in a chair with a wound bleeding out. This time, it's more than just an image. I feel things. I feel this determined panic. I'm trying to save him, because he's one of the good guys. It's gone almost as quickly as it came. He studies my expression. "No? Nothing?" He shakes his head. "I thought we had something, Prue."

"I don't know you," I say.

"But you will, soon," he remarks. "Did you know that your husband died in 1999?" His words catch me off guard. My shock must be written across my face because he steps closer to me. I put a hand up to stop him, and he freezes, his eyes turning between my hand and my face, like he's expecting something. "This is just one more example of the Elders misusing their power. He's working for them."

"My husband is a police officer."

A smile forms on the man's face. "Yeah, that's what he tells you," he remarked. "Do you research, Prue. You're smart. You can figure out the truth." A breeze picks up around us. "It's all a lie. It's-" My heart was pounding so loud in my ears that I didn't hear the flutter of wings. "Look out!" The man lifted his crossbow and all I could think to do was duck. There was a figure behind me, snarling. The arrow released from the man's crossbow, but the woman disappeared. I stood up, turning around with my brow furrowed.

When I turned to the man, the woman was behind him. It was the same woman from the other night. She bared her fangs and grabbed the man roughly around the middle, aiming for his neck. "No!" I shouted, a flare of anger coursing through my veins as I lifted my hand. The both of them were flung backward into a brick wall. The man crumpled to the ground, but the woman was back on her feet almost immediately.

"Next time, Charmed One," she said, then disappeared much as she had before. I blinked at the empty space she no longer occupied. Then I looked at my extended hand. Had I done that? I turned my attention back to the man. Our eyes met for a mere moment and then his form disappeared in a shimmer of black and blue.

What the hell just happened?

–

I should call the police. I should call Andy. But my mind begins to burn with the questions I'll be asked. I'm not a good liar; I've never been good at lying. I speed home, pretty sure I've run a couple of stop signs in the process. But, no one saw me, so that's okay, right? I reach over to the passenger seat to grab my camera bag as soon as I park in the driveway, but feel nothing there. I look over. My camera bag is gone.

My mind is still racing once I get the kids off of the bus. "As soon as you finish that, get ready to do your homework." Peyton grumbles as I plant a kiss on top of her head and set a snack down on the table beside her. "I'm going to get your brother, okay?" I walk from the kitchen and up the stairs, humming a familiar tune. I knock on his door twice and then push it open.

"What?" Parker questions, not even picking his head up from his pillow.

I furrow my eyebrows and place a hand on my hip. "What's with the attitude mister?" I question. He shrugs his shoulders. While he's never been as affectionate as Peyton, I don't remember a time when my son hasn't talked to me. I cross the room and sit on the edge of his bed.

"Mom," he grumbles.

"Hey, I'm not leaving this room until you tell me what's wrong." Parker covers his face with a pillow, which I wrangle out of his grasp. He heaves a sigh and stares at me.

When he realizes that I'm not going to give in, he says, "I'm tired. I haven't been sleeping well." I frown.

"Why didn't you come get me or Dad if you were having trouble sleeping?" I question. Peyton wouldn't have hesitated to climb in the bed with us if she was having problems sleeping.

"It's just dreams." I can see the exhaustion in his eyes. It's one that I see in the mirror sometimes when I'm overwhelmed.

"Why don't you tell me about them?" I suggest, my features softening. He shakes his head.

"I just want to sleep," Parker admits.

Sighing, I nod. "Okay, homework?"

"Did it on the bus."

When did my son get to be so independent? I remember just yesterday... "Okay," I concede. "Get some sleep. But, promise me. If you have any more nightmares, come and get me or Dad." He doesn't respond. "Okay?" I question, tickling his stomach.

"Okay, okay. I promise!" Parker says while trying to hide a smile.

I help Peyton with her homework and get dinner done. She eats, bathes, and then settles in to watch a little TV with me. I glance at the clock. It's getting late. "Alright munchkin, bedtime." I flip off the TV and see that familiar pout on her face.

"But Daddy isn't home to read to me." She crosses her arms on her chest, a sign that she doesn't want to move from the couch. Her bottom lip is puckered out.

"Well, he can't be home every night." She doesn't want to move.

"Daddy promised." I'm about to give in and let her watch TV until she falls asleep. I'm too tired to fight her tonight.

"Yes, he did," comes a voice from the foyer. I look up, a smile forming on my face. Just in time. I watch my daughter's face light up as she bounds from the couch and to her father. "Head upstairs and pick out a book." He plants a kiss on her temple and puts her back on the floor. She walks out of the room and up the stairs.

"Hi," I say with a smile, but he doesn't smile back. Instead, he fidgets with his briefcase, then places a black bag on the coffee table in front of me. He turns and walks after Peyton. I look down and pick up up the item from the table.

My camera bag.


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N:** I am in the process of a rewrite of this fanfic. If you haven't already, please start at chapter one. There are some slight changes. Thank you to the readers, as always!

* * *

I'm not sure how I should feel. Panic seems to come to mind, but why would I need to panic? It's not like I was really hiding anything from Andy. I just didn't tell him I had intentions of going back there. Besides, it's not like my husband to do anything rash. I glance over my shoulder as I stand up from my spot on the couch, thinking over what to tell him. I won't lie. But how do I explain what happened there today? I carry the camera bag into the kitchen, setting it gently on the counter, my eyes low as I remembered the man from earlier. Who was he?

_Did you know that your husband died in 1999?_

"So." Andy's voice makes me jump. I didn't hear him come into the kitchen. I look up, guilt obviously written on my face, even though I really have nothing to be guilty about. "Want to tell me why you went back there?"

My shoulders shrug. "I couldn't get that night out of my head. Sitting around here, I didn't have anything better to do. I wanted to face it head on."

"_This is just one more example of the Elders misusing their power. He's working for them."_

That was the second time the elders had been mentioned. He'd said Andy was working for them. Who were they? His arms cross over his chest. "And what did you find?" I bite my bottom lip. After Andy lied to me that night, and the things the man said about him today, I don't know what to believe.

"Why did _you_ go back there?" I answer.

"I talked with some of the guys at work, they thought it might be best if I go and look over where it happened, in case this woman doesn't leave you alone. But when I found this there-" He points to it on the counter. "I was worried that someone took you. Why else would I find your bag there without you?" He's not looking at me.

"I was doing the same thing. Looking for clues." I say, barely containing the frustration in my voice.

"_That means the vampire was right about your husband. Bastard, if you ask me, since he has you."_

What did any of it mean? "And the bag? How'd it get left behind?" he quirks an eyebrow at me. I don't like this. Andy and I never fight. We always find a way to talk to one another, especially about the hard stuff. But he's not being honest with me. "Damnit, Prue. Tell me what happened." His tone is hard, but his volume remains low.

I feel hot tears welling in my eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I mumble as I turn my eyes to look away from him. I hear him give an exasperated sigh.

"And what if I told you that woman is a wanted killer?" he questions. That gets my attention. I look back at him, my eyebrows furrowed. I shake my head. That would make sense. She tried to attack me, and the man earlier.

"She's a vampire," I say lamely.

"Vampires?" Andy questions. I sigh. It feels like he's mocking me. "So, first you think that something's off with our life. Now you're thinking that there are vampires in the city?"

I shake my head, trying to bite back my fear and confusion. "There was a man there. He knew me. Just like that woman. He didn't tell me who he was. Then the woman showed up, she tried to attack me." I look up at my husband, fear in my eyes because I'm unsure of how he'll react. I shake my head. "Then, she attacked that man and I lifted my hand and threw them both backwards into a wall. They both disappeared."

Andy's eyes are on mine, veiled emotions just beneath the surface. "And you've never seen him before?" He finally brings his eyes up to mine. They are softer; he's worried. My head shakes once more.

"I knew him, too. I just don't know how." I run a hand through my hair and then turn from Andy to busy my shaking hands. "I recognized him. He said something about you dying in 1999." I tug at the bottom of my shirt awkwardly. "He said something about him not volunteering to go back to prison. That the could have saved me." We stand in silence as he stares at me. "Has nothing weird happened to you?" Andy hesitates. "What?" I question, feeling my heart drop into my stomach. Just as quickly as I saw that hesitation in his eyes, it disappears.

"I was thinking we should plan a vacation," Andy said. My shoulders deflate. "We've always talked about taking a cruise, just the two of us." 

"Have we?" My voice is tense.

"Mom?" A scared voice comes from the doorway.

"Parker?" I question, peering around Andy to see our son standing there, his face pale. I push past my husband and cross over to him. "What's wrong? Did you have another bad dream?" He nods, but doesn't speak. I pull him against me. He's burning up. I see the sweat on his forehead. "What happened?" I pull back and kneel down to his height. His eyes stare into mine. I see a fear in them that I've never seen there before.

"They need you," he says cryptically. I glance over at Andy, who looks as confused as I feel.

I shake my head, keeping my voice gentle. "Who needs us, baby?"

"Your sisters."

–

I make Parker drink some water and I take him back to his room. I hold his hand until he falls asleep. It worries me. That look on his face will haunt my dreams. "Sweet dreams, my boy," I whispered to him before kissing his forehead and making my way to the master bedroom, where Andy has just climbed out of the shower. "He's asleep," I say gently as I cross to my side of the bed and pull back the blankets. Parker didn't say anything else after telling me that my sisters need me. He was shaken by whatever he saw in his dream.

Andy glances over at me. In the dim light, I can't tell what he's thinking. The truth is, I can't tell much of what he's thinking anymore. I sit down on the bed, but I don't settle in. "I'm losing you," I whisper.

"Hey..." His voice is full of compassion. The stress and exhaustion of the last few days takes over. My eyes are hot with tears. Andy pulls me to him. I rest my head on his chest. "You aren't losing me." I try to stifle the sobs threatening to rise, to steady my shoulders. I want to push him away, to scream at him for his lies. But I can't deny the comfort I feel in his arms. "We're soul mates, remember?"

"Don't you ever leave me, Andy Trudeau," I whisper.

I feel his lips on the top of my head. "Not even death could separate us."

–

The following day, I'm up early. I see the kids off to school, Andy to work, and then I make my way to the public library. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's research. It's second nature to me. When I set my mind to something, I don't stop until I find what I'm looking for. I do a couple of quick searches on their computers, but can find nothing. I try to focus in on what we know for sure. Aside from the crazy vampire, and the guy with the crossbow, I've got nothing solid to go on. I have no names, no proof.

But what about Andy? He said Andy had died in 1999. It's a long shot, but I shut down the computer and head for the newspaper archives. I grab microfiche from the first six months of the year and go through obituary after obituary. I read slowly, carefully, looking for anything that could potentially stick out. It's getting into the afternoon as I reach May. I've been at the library for hours. I feel my eyes straining over the dim backlight of the newspaper archive. It's been fifteen years since these articles.

I'm ready for a break when I see it. _Andrew "Andy" Trudeau._ My heart stops in my chest, and then speeds up. I lean closer, almost too close. My hand touches the screen. _Andy Trudeau was a servant of the people. It was in his line of work that his life was taken far too soon. He was a beloved son and the city of San Francisco will greatly miss his contribution to society. _I furrow my eyebrows and feel a flash of anger. That's it? That's all the recognition that Andy gets? Wait.. What in the world am I thinking? Andy's not dead. I print the obituary and stuff it into my purse, but I'm on a roll now. I need to find more. It's like a drug almost as I begin to pour over every page of the papers around the obituary. How did it happen? How is it all connected?

Another hour passes before I find it. _Killed in the Line of Duty._ I glance over the article. _Detective Trudeau was responding to a disturbance at 1329 Prescott Street, the home of the Halliwell sisters. Internal Affairs detective Rodriguez is believed to have been the culprit of the disturbance. He disappeared after the incident, but not before taking the life of one of San Francisco's finest. Detective Trudeau's partner, Darryl Morris... _

I can't help but read the article five more times. It sounds familiar. But it could be something as simple as a television show I've watched. As I scan it a sixth time, the address of the incident sticks out to me. Home of the Halliwell sisters. That name sounds familiar as well. I print the page and put it in my bag alongside the obituary. Where did I hear the name Halliwell? I close my eyes as I try to think, but nothing comes.

My cell phone begins to ring in my purse. I shut down the machine. "Shhhh!" I turn to see a librarian at the nearest desk giving me a harsh look.

"Sorry," I mumble as I silence the ringer. "Hello?" I whisper into the phone.

"Mrs. Trudeau?" The voice sounds all too authoritative.

"This is she?"

"My name is Sheryl Johnson. I'm the guidance counselor at your daughter's school." I shove my bag onto my shoulder and put away the microfiche.

"Peyton? Is something wrong?" I question as I hurry past the desk and out of the library.

"Your daughter attacked another student," the woman says. I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head.

"Peyton would never attack anyone," I say, digging through my bag for my keys. "Look, I'll be there in fifteen minutes, then we can talk about it."

–

When I pull up to the school, it's clear that classes are out. There is a straggler bus loading children as I climb from my car and rush up to the front office. "I'm so sorry," I say as I push open the door. "I got caught in traffic, and I don't know the side streets that well and-"

"Mrs. Trudeau?"

I look up to see a woman with dark hair wearing a stiff suit standing at the entrance to an office. Then my eyes take in my daughter. The little girl with Andy's eyes and my dark hair. I frown, but not disapprovingly. Apparently this woman has it wrong. That fear in Peyton's eyes. She doesn't even want to look at me. "Yes, I'm Prue Trudeau." I don't look at the woman. Instead, I cross over to my daughter. I place a hand on her cheek and pull her to look at me. "Are you okay?" She nods and puts her head down once more. "What's the meaning of this?" I finally turn to the woman.

"Mrs. Trudeau, if you would step in my office, please," the woman says, motioning to the door at her side.

I sigh. "I'll be right back, okay?" My voice is gentle. I squeeze Peyton on the shoulder and then enter the office, Sheryl Johnson close on my heels.

"Have a seat." Her tone is more commanding than suggestive. This woman is a guidance counselor? Guidance counselors are supposed to be fun and encouraging. Not drill sergeants. Either way, I do as requested. "Mrs. Trudeau, your daughter attacked a student."

"That's what you said." My words are more impatient than I intended. "Please, tell me what actually happened?"

"There's a boy on her school bus-"

"Yes, one that bullies her-" I interrupt. The woman puts up a hand and I'm silenced for the moment. I feel my eyes narrow slightly. I'm a fierce momma.

"He's also in her afternoon physical education class. After class, the boy claims your daughter used the lanyard around his neck, which carries his identification card, to choke him." I blink a few times as silence falls into the room.

"You're kidding right?"

The woman shakes her head. "I am not. I saw the indentions left around his throat.."

"So he's fine then?"

She stares me down. "Mrs. Trudeau, is everything at home going well?" I nod. "I understand that transitioning from primary to elementary school can be scary for children. So I will allow this with a warning. If Peyton does anything further, I will be forced to recommend suspension." I really don't care about this woman's threat. If my daughter hurt someone, which I highly doubt since she's very small for her age, much like I was, she had a good reason. Peyton didn't do things unprovoked.

"I understand," I say, impatient to end this meeting.

"Is Peyton's father in the picture?"

"Excuse me?" I question, not quite understanding her tone.

"Mr. Trudeau?"

"Yes, he is. He's a detective for San Francisco PD," I say.

"That sort of job can have long hours-"

My defenses are up. I stand and practically throw my purse over my shoulder. "I don't know what you're insinuating, but my husband is home every single night to read Peyton a book. He's home most of the time on the weekends. Our home life is, you could say, pretty damn good. So whatever the issue is, it's obviously not a result of my parenting skills." My hand is shaking at my side. I feel the same urge I felt in the alleyway when that woman tried to bite the man with the crossbox. I feel as though if I move my hand, I could cause something to crash across the room.

That's the last thing I want right now. "And if that boy does anything to my daughter again, have no worries, I'll handle it myself." I turn without another word and head out of the office. "Come on," I say to Peyton. We walk in silence from the office together. We drive home in silence together. Once we're in the house, I can't stand the silence.

"Mom?" Questions Parker from the living room as we walk in.

"Hey," I say. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you when you got off of the bus." I hadn't even thought about him. Wow. That says I'm some kind of terrible mother.

"Is everything okay?"

I nod gently. "There was a misunderstanding at school with your sister. But no big deal, right?" I glance over my shoulder at Peyton, who still has that look of fear in her eyes. "Why don't you get washed up so you can help me fix dinner?" Parker scowls. "Hey. It's your turn. Peyton helped last night." He grumbles something and then heads up the stairs. I set down my purse and turn toward my daughter. "Want to talk about it?"

She's standing near the doorway, her eyes on the floor. She shakes her head slowly back and forth. I can't help but feel sympathy for her. I motion to her with my finger to come here and sit down on the couch, patting the spot beside me. She removes her backpack and follows slowly to sit down. "You need to tell me what happened," I say in a gentle voice, resting my elbows on my knees. "I find it hard to believe that you would purposely choke a boy, no matter what he did to you."

"I didn't!" she protests. "He was picking on me. Saying my hair looked dumb. And he kept shoving me on the bus this morning. So I just looked at him and I—I-" She looks up at me, that fear still present.

"You what?" I say gently. She buries her face in her hands. I pull one of her hands from her face. I see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I _wished_ that he'd get hurt. Just so he'd stop picking on me. I never touched him. The thing just tightened around his neck," she says, exasperated.

I can feel my own fear rising into my throat. She didn't touch him. It did it on its own. I look down at my own hands, remembering the anger I felt, the need to use my hands to move something. As strange as it seems, could what I have had been passed on to my daughter? "I believe you," I whisper. She sobs gently, so I pull her against me and stroke her hair. "I know you would never hurt someone intentionally, baby girl." I press my lips to the top of her head. Parker sulks through the living room and darts into the kitchen without a word. "I bet he doesn't mess with you again." I say with a smirk.

Peyton looks up at me almost incredulously. "What? Whatever happened, happened for a reason. Maybe he'll take it as a sign and back off." She smiles at me. "Just promise me that if you get angry like that, take some deep breaths. Just calm down." My daughter nods. It's in those small moments that I see her father. She looks so much like me, but she has Andy's eyes. "Let's go get ready for dinner, okay?"


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N:** I am in the process of a rewrite of this fanfic. If you haven't already, please start at chapter one. There are some slight changes. Thank you to the readers, as always!

–

Sleep evades me. With Parker's nightmares and the incident with Peyton at school, as well as the news that my husband died in 1999, I feel like my head is going to explode. He stays late at work the next several days. So late that I'm already tucked into bed and half asleep when he gets home. But I can't get a full night of sleep. My mind goes over the words in the article over and over again. Detective Trudeau was responding to an incident at 1329...Home of the Halliwell Sisters...Beloved son of the city of San Francisco. I wake up in a cold sweat, the image of him flying backward haunting me. It's like I saw it. Like I was there. But Andy is always right next to me when I wake in the middle of the night. I feel his presence as deeply as if we were the same person.

I'm awake well before dawn on Saturday. I have the article on the coffee table in front of me, reading it over and over again. That's when I get an idea. The name of his partner. Darryl Morris. I power up my personal laptop and do the one thing I always resort to when I can't resolve something: Google. It's all to easy to locate an address for him, which I find rather disturbing honestly. There's no telephone number listed, of course. It's the age of cell phones. Majority of numbers aren't listed anymore. I scribble down the address and snap my laptop shut as I hear the shuffling of footsteps from upstairs. Peyton. She always liked to get up early.

"Mom?" It isn't Peyton's voice that I hear. It's Parker's.

"Hey baby," I call out to him as he appears on the stairway. "You okay?" I can tell he isn't. I pat the spot next to me on the couch. Once he sits down, I wrap an arm around him. He's clammy and shivering, but sweating up a storm.

"I'm having weird dreams," he says in a quiet voice.

"What kind of weird dreams?" We didn't really address the message he gave me about having sisters.

"Like I have magical powers," Parker admits. I can sense that he doesn't feel confident in these dreams and he's seeking guidance from me. I offer a half smile as he looks up at me. "I imagined that I was floating, on these dark blue clouds, kind of. And then I saw a woman, she looked a little like you. I was...hurting her." My brow furrows. Where is this coming from? "There was a man there. He was encouraging me to hurt her. He said..." Parker has an active imagination for sure. "He said that he was my dad."

I don't know why but I feel the color drain from my own features. "Was it Daddy?" Parker shakes his head.

"I didn't know him. He...he said something about the woman. That she was your sister." There he goes again. Another mention of sisters.

"Baby, I don't have any sisters," I reply gently. "Just me. The only family I have in the world are you, and Peyton."

"And Dad."

"And Dad," I confirm, my mind drifting to the article wedged inside of my laptop in front of us.

"How do I make them stop?"

"How about tonight I make you some of my special good dreams tea?" I offer a smile and he shyly returns it. "Good. Go upstairs and get ready for soccer. Dad's bringing you and Peyton today."

"Why?"

His question catches me off guard. "Why not, silly? He's off of work today and he promised your sister ice cream after." That wasn't originally the plan, but Andy can take one for the team today. I've done more than my share of extracurricular activities alone. Besides, it'll be good for the kids to spend time with their father. And it'll give me time to check out this Darryl Morris more thoroughly.

–

"Why is _just_ Daddy taking us today?" Peyton questioned, her bottom lip pouted out as I slip my sweater over my shoulders. I tug at the front to straighten it and smile down at her.

"Because sometimes, Mommies have other things they have to do," I reply, turning to my purse on the table to dig out my keys. "I'll be here when you get home this afternoon though." She looks up at me with anxiety in her eyes. I stop what I'm doing and turn toward her. "What's wrong?"

Peyton shrugs. I'm reminded of the day when she was so scared and didn't want to look at me. "You always bring Parker to soccer."

"Hey..." I lean down to get on her level. My beautiful little girl who sometimes thinks the world is on her shoulders. I brush the hair from her face and rearrange the pin in her hair to keep it back. "It's going to be fine. I'll be right here when you get home." She gives a meek smile and I kiss her forehead. Andy walks in, giving a boyish grin. "See? Daddy will be with you all of the way."

"And there's ice cream after," he reminds her. I feel his hand on the small of my back as I stand up. I can tell there's something he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it right now. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and strap my purse over my shoulder. "Have fun shopping."

Uneasiness settles in the moment I get behind the steering wheel. Peyton is looking at me from the window, so I offer a smile and a wave and she gives me a half hearted one in return. I'm not sure why, but deep down, there's an ominous air to everything around me as I put the car in reverse and back out of the drive way. I follow the route I memorized, avoiding the main traffic areas until I find the neighborhood where Morris lives. The sun is high in the sky as I spot the house. I drive a couple of blocks down and park. My heart is racing in my chest and I haven't even gone up to the house yet.

What's the worst that could happen? Maybe the Andy Trudeau that died in 1999 is a completely different guy. I'd need to see a photograph of the man before I'd be willing to accept that explanation. I notice my hand shaking as I reach for the handle of my door. I'm here, can't back out now. My feet hit the pavement and I set my shoulders, determined to go up to that house.

"Are you really going to do that?" A voice questions from behind me. I fight hard to stifle a squeal as I turn around and find the same dark haired man from the alleyway staring at me curiously.

I furrow my eyebrows. "Are you following me?" He hesitates and gives me the moment I need to turn and walk away.

"Okay, yes," he admits. I can sense him as he walks up behind me and eventually matches me stride for stride. "Just think about it, Prue. You're about to knock on the door of a man who thinks your husband is dead. That _you_ are dead." That stops me in my tracks. I blink and turn to look at him. "That's right. You see, Darryl Morris nearly died protecting you and your sisters, just like your husband did. He retired early so he wouldn't have to do it anymore." His words are harsh.

"What do you know?" I question indignantly.

"I know enough to tell you that going up to that house will disrupt his life more than it will give you the answers you seek." There's a sincerity in his eyes. I take in his features; he looks exactly the same as he did before. Except...

"Where's your crossbow?"

"Decided to leave it behind," he admitted, smiling at me.

"Who are you?"

I know him. I know that I know him; I just don't know how. He bites his bottom lip, contemplating his answer. I'm sure he can tell by the way my features harden that he's got all of five seconds to answer me before I- "Bane Jessup."

"And how do you know me?"

"You saved my life, on more than one occasion," he answers remarkably quick. "If not for you, I'd have died a long time ago. I never got the chance to repay that debt, and it's killed me every day since I found out you died." I shake my head.

"I didn't die. I'm standing right here."

"That's what I don't get. What are the Elders up to?"

"The Elders?" The familiar term catches my attention. "Who are they?" Bane regards me for a long moment. His hand grasps my forearm gently and he tugs me back toward the car, out of sight of the Morris home. "What are you doing?" I question, trying to keep my voice at a reasonable level. He stops and turns to look at me, serious as ever.

"Do you trust me?"

The first answer that comes to mind is "hell no." But as I stare up at him, there's something deep down inside of me stirring. A part of me that _does_ trust him. I'm sure I should be terrified, but I'm not. His presence calms me. With a curt nod, the street around us disappears. I feel like I'm floating in a sea of blue-black, before the world reforms and we are standing at the edge of a park. There's a treeline ahead of me. And just on the other side of a cluster of bushes, I see it. The bench swing hangs from a large oak tree.

I'm overcome with a sadness so deep that my heart aches. I run my fingertips on the back plank of wood, feeling the roughness of it. An image flashes before my eyes, standing in front of Andy, telling him that I'd die if anything happened to him. As soon as it comes, it's gone. All that remains is the empty swing.

"What did you see?" My head snaps up as I turn to see Bane standing there.

"Andy," I whisper. Bane nods. Even though I see him, I'm not thinking of him right now.

"This was your place," he says. "See, I didn't know you when you and Andy were seeing one another. You dated in high school-" I feel the corners of my mouth turn upward at the memories of my high school sweetheart, prom, getting married. "-But you couldn't make it work. Not then. Not ten years later when you reconnected after your grams died."

I shook my head. "No, Andy and I have been married for over ten years. We made it work."

"That's what the Elders want you to believe," Bane says.

"Why do you know so much about me?"

"Piper." Piper? Why does that sound so familiar. "I made another deal, a deal you wouldn't have liked. To become what I am now in exchange for my freedom from prison." I feel his eyes on me, but all I can think about is Andy. "I ran into Piper, stopped her from vanquishing me. I've never wished harm on the Halliwells. She told me what happened to you."

"What happened to me?"

He shakes his head. "That's something you have to remember on your own."

I shake my head. "No. I didn't die." It's impossible. "Andy didn't either. He and I are married. We have children. We have a life. But all of these weird things are happening-"

"Like what?" He questions. Then a moment later, he asks, " Like moving things with your mind?" I freeze, my eyes widening.

"Why did you bring me here?" I question.

"I was hoping it would bring back your memories, so that I didn't have to bring you somewhere else, somewhere worse."

"Why do you even care? I find it odd that a random man I've never met knows more about what supposedly happened to me, even though I can't remember a second of it." I turn and advance on him. "What's in it for you?"

"Because I love you, Prue," he whispers, reaching out to brush a lock of stray hair out of my face. "And your sisters need you."

When I look up at him, the deep color of his eyes sucks me in. If I just let it happen, if I let go, my world is going to change. I can feel it with every fiber of my being. I want to. But I can't. "Everyone keeps saying I have sisters. I'm an only child," I say stubbornly. "I have only one family. Andy and I and our kids."

"A demon killed Andy in 1999, Prue!" I feel my stomach drop. Vampires. Whatever Bane is. What else don't I know about this world? "You and your sisters, you were—are witches." There it is. The bomb. I shake my head. "But two years after Andy died, you were killed by a demon as well. You died trying to protect innocents. That's what you did."

I shake my head. "No, no that's not possible. Andy and I have been together since high school and we have kids. Two beautiful kids, a boy and a girl and-and-" I'm starting to hyperventilate. This isn't right. None of it. "Andy's—He's alive. I saw him this morning before I came here. He kissed me goodbye and I can call him-"

"Prue," Bane says. I can see sympathy in his eyes. My head shakes again. I can feel the tears in my own eyes. "You need to see something."

–

In another blur, the park fades and we're somewhere else. A cemetery. Bane leads the way past headstones. This feels all too familiar. My steps are slow as I follow behind him. He stops and turns to look at me, motioning me forward with his head. I turn my gaze forward, finding the headstone in question. _Andrew Trudeau. 1970-1999. _My heart stopped. I blink rapidly, unable to believe what I'm seeing. I take two steps forward and kneel before the stone. I reach my hand forward to trace the letters with my fingertips.

That's when the world around me fades and the images begin. A woman holding baby girl. _Isn't Phoebe beautiful, Prue?_ She asks me. A little boy in a cowboy hat. Andy. I hear my grams fussing at me, but I can't quite make out what she's saying. Hiding beneath a blanket whispering with another little girl. Piper. Sneaking out with a teenage boy. Andy. Thinking that he would be the be all, end all of my world. Fighting with Phoebe. Going to college, and moving home to take care of grams and Piper and the manor. Then Phoebe's return.

At this point, the images around me are swirling and moving so fast that it's hard to keep up. There's a book with a symbol on it. _The Power of Three Will Set Us Free..._ Warlocks and demons and time travel. Reconnecting with Andy. Using the truth spell and finding out his reaction. Going to the past and seeing my mother and grandmother alive and well. Andy protecting my secret. Andy losing his job. Rodriguez. The time loop. Being with Andy at our swing. _I'd die if anything happened to you_. Phoebe's vision, the one of Andy flying backward. Remembering that place between death and living when Andy came to me and told me I had to go on. That he would always be with me.

The images with Andy move in almost slow motion. My hand placing a red and white rose on a coffin. Then, the images speed up again. Learning more about magic and other magical beings. P3. Trying to find love again. Quitting the miserable job at Bucklands to pursue photography. Cole Turner. Piper and Leo's wedding. Shax. Crashing through a wall. And then nothing. The images fade to black. For a moment, I'm blinded, even though I can feel the cool stone of Andy's headstone at my fingertips. My eyes blink and the world reforms around me. My cheeks are tearstained as I take a deep breath and realize that I knew the truth all along.

The world that I'd been living in, the one where Andy and I were happy and normal, it was a lie. That's why there were no pictures of our wedding or baby pictures of the kids. We never got married. We never had children. It was a fake world that someone put me in. The anger flares inside of my chest as I realize only one group of people have that kind of power.

The Elders. They haven't heard the last from me just yet.


End file.
